


mother, i climbed

by sibylvane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, First War with Voldemort, Moral Dilemmas, Non-Graphic Violence, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29941314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sibylvane/pseuds/sibylvane
Summary: Your name is Marlene McKinnon.
Relationships: Marlene McKinnon & Dorcas Meadowes, Remus Lupin & Marlene McKinnon
Kudos: 2





	mother, i climbed

**Author's Note:**

> _Lay me down in the dark womb of your love -  
>  Mother the years pass outta counting, but no prophet comes to comfort me..._

**i. Your name is Marlene McKinnon, and you are lost.**

You've spent your whole childhood doing exactly one thing: searching. For what, you don't know. 

Sometimes, you feel achingly close to finding that last piece of the puzzle that is your self. Other times, you can't recognize yourself even though you have spent hours staring into your own eyes in the mirror. 

You want to scream. You want to laugh. Something vital is missing within you and you are perfectly aware of that.

You searched for this _something_ all through your Hogwarts years. You thought you would find it written in the stars, twirling inside a crystal ball, amongst the pages of the many library books, hidden in the tarot cards. You thought you'd find it in your friends, in flying high over the quidditch pitch, in dancing on tabletops. You thought you'd find it in Upper Flagley, or perhaps in London. You thought you would find it in war, in the fight for equality and justice.

But you never did.

You did find something else, however. _Doubt._

It is a powerful thing. 

Who are you, your reflection whispers. Are you a good person? You have killed. You have raged. Is that what a good person does?

What is the meaning of all this bloodshed? (You cannot answer).

Does it make you the hero of a tragedy? A martyr, is that what you are? Is that what you want to become? (You do not want to answer).

_Is war and lost lives what you want to leave behind when you meet your end?_

You cover your ears.

Luckily, there are times when everything doesn't feel so bleak.

The search continues. You turn eighteen. You turn nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-one —

Lily and James get married and all of you get to forget the war for a second. You drink. You dance, first with Dorcas, then with Mary, with Sirius and Peter, with the lucky bride and groom. You smoke with Remus and Alice later, in companionable silence.

Frida and Addie visit Upper Flagley with Marigold and her husband. Your father bakes a cake to celebrate, the result ending up almost as disastrous as if you would've done it yourself. Neither of your nieces complains - you can tell that they will be just as brilliant as their mum.

Donna spends the Christmas break during her sixth year with you, sleeping on the couch in your cottage. You help her with her divination homework and cut her hair in the shape yours used to be before you became a soldier. You tell her about your beloved muggle bands. It's a welcome distraction for both of you - Hogwarts is as much a war zone as London is, nowadays.

  
  


**ii. Your name is Marlene McKinnon, and you are nothing but a puppet.**

"Marlene," Dumbledore prods kindly, blue eyes looking at you from behind his crescent-shaped glasses, "Do you understand why you can't tell anyone about your prophecy? Not even your friends." 

You do not answer at first – you're scared that your voice will break, or that you'll say something that you will regret later. The crippling feeling of doubt returns, and you look away from your old headmaster. It’s a gloomy day.

"Yes, sir," you tell the old man, "It won't leave this room. I just want to do the right thing."

You open your tightly closed fists. Your too-long nails have left tiny marks in your palms. 

There is something else inhabiting your body. You cannot control it: it is alien to you. At the same time, it is almost comforting. But this sets you apart from your peers even more. It confirms why you are seen as odd, as unnerving, as peculiar. In a way, that is a relief. But it also isolates you. 

Something else moves your hands, your mouth, your limbs. Something else slumbers and dreams inside of you.

No one will truly understand why you act the way you do. No one will ever see what's going on in your mind. No one will truly see _you._

Is it a blessing or a curse, this ' sight '? You will spend the rest of your life trying to answer this question.

You look into the mirror and see a machine. The first time you killed a Death Eater was a few months after you graduated; it wasn't because you wanted to, but because you had to. That was not the last time you took a life, though.

A killing machine — that is what you are.

You push the thought away, but a small part of you will always try to desperately salvage the remnants of your humanity, fiercely protective of the pieces of your soul that have not yet been replaced by scraps of metal. You try to forget this realization, but maybe that is what you have been searching for this whole time. 

You wash your face with cold water and gratefully accept the cup of tea Dorcas offers you. You don't even have the energy to add some whiskey when she isn't looking. Instead, you just close your eyes and lean against her steady, warm shoulder. Your eyes burn a little bit.

This still isn't enough. 

  
  


**iii. Your name is Marlene McKinnon, and reality is slipping through your fingers.**

You feel so alone, sometimes; even when you're talking during an order meeting, voice loud and clear and brave. You feel alone during battles, fighting back to back with Sirius. You feel alone even when you're helping Dorcas prepare for a picnic with the potters.

Perhaps you have always felt this way.

There are days when only the threat of Dorcas' cat clawing your eyes out gets you out of bed.

You cannot sleep. or, rather, you simply avoid it.

Whenever you close your eyes, fooled by the heavy allure of sleep, you are overwhelmed by shadows. Whispers and vague impressions crowd you. Invisible hands stroke your cheeks and press at the corners of your mind. You are drowning in bad omens, but you still do not understand what your mind tries to tell you. You feel like you are suffocating.

Your nails leave marks on your throat and your cheeks in your restless sleep. You blame them on the cat.

Being awake, however, leaves you alone with your thoughts.

Your chest aches and your heart is threatening to break out of your ribcage. You have never been scared of death, but the sensation of dread twists your thoughts until it hurts. _You're dragging everyone down with you,_ your mind sings.

Thus, the doubt returns, like a ghost at your bedside. You begin to volunteer to take more shifts, more missions for the Order. Your friends call you reckless, but you do not listen. You try to dim the chaos inside you with wine, with brandy, with whiskey. It does work for a short time – until it backfires.

You floo Rory one night, tears running down your red and blotchy cheeks. He doesn't question your tears; doesn't question why you didn't just walk across the street to Dorcas' place to seek comfort. He doesn't comment on the way alcohol stains your breath. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug, allows you to stain his sweater with tears and snot without complaining. 

His roommate, a sweet muggle man who you suspect is more than just his friend, makes tea while you cling to your older brother as though your life depends on it. Rory runs his hands through your hair and you swallow the sentences forming on your tongue.

You do not want to let him go. 

You haven't slept properly in god knows how long: the dreams keep waking you up. Not even a drink can help you now, no matter how hard you try.

You are so tired.

  
  


After this, you spend one sunny weekend with the Weasleys. Their littlest one, Ronald, has just learned how to make his mum's kitchen utensils float, waving his chubby hands around to create a small tornado. 

You're tasked with keeping the older ones in check: the twins are a handful, but you entertain them with tales of Gideon and Fabian's (somewhat exaggerated) adventures. Percy tells you about the gnomes in the garden but Bill and Charlie keep trying to get you to play Quidditch with them, convinced that you're a star player after you accidentally reveal that Lesley McKinnon of the Holyhead Harpies is your sister. 

The children bicker, fight, laugh: watching them makes you reminiscence over your own childhood.

You swear to yourself that you will never let the war touch them. If you're going to lose your soul, your sanity, it'll be in order to ensure that these children will never have to do the same.

  
  


**iv. Your name is Marlene McKinnon, and the world is crumbling around you.**

You are the only one of your siblings that is an official member of the Order of the Phoenix. Still, they aren't by any means sitting idly by. Marigold silently works alongside your father at the Ministry. Donna hosts student meetings at Hogwarts and learns how to operate a radio. Rory, in subtle defiance, makes clever remarks during interviews. Lesley, not so subtle, develops a remarkable talent for vandalism and graffiti. 

Remus offers you a cigarette one night, after a mission that went to hell. It's not the kind you usually smoke, but a cheap muggle sort. It's war, though, so you'll take what you can get. Remus tells you, as though he was talking about the weather, that he's going undercover and joining Greyback's pack. You cannot tell anyone, Marlene, he says.

Oh, how you admire him. You fear for him, of course, but you are also in awe.

"Attaboy," you reply, staring out into the pitch-dark night. It's quiet, for now. It's one of those moments you would treasure later, had later ever come. It's the calm in the eye of the storm. 

You feel empty: the smoke is bitter on your tongue. There are so many secrets surrounding you. You exhale. "You're the best of us, Rem. Don't you ever doubt it."

Remus is a good person; one of the best you've ever met. But what about you? 

How much is left of you now, you wonder cautiously. The line between Marlene the Woman and Marlene the Soldier is getting more and more unintelligible. It thrilled you when you were a teenager. Now, it scares you.

  
  


Eventually, you stop counting how many friends you've lost. Too many, anyway.

You didn't think a heart could break into this many fragile pieces. Evidently, you were wrong.

You watch Gideon Prewett fall beside you. You're the one who finds the most pieces of Benjy Fenwick's body.

You can't help but cry your eyes out over the Bones family, over Eddie, who never hesitated to stand up for what was right, and Maggie, who had one of the most uplifting laughs you have ever had the privilege to hear. You cry over their kids, just as wonderfully kind and amazing as their parents. You cry over Dorcas too, even though she is still alive and kicking, because she is a shell of her former self.⠀

_I should've saved them,_ your mind roars, _I could have saved them. I could've saved them if I had only been strong enough. Clever enough._

You love so many people and you know that you are loved in return. Despite this, you feel more alone than ever. 

Love might be enough to protect some people. Love can do many things – but it cannot save you.

The loneliness never left. Neither did the doubt. You never found what you were looking for, in the end. 

  
  


  
  



End file.
